I grew aware of her, waiting. I said, in a fretful way,
''He won''t want to stand. It''s rough, when you stand. You only stand when you haven''t a place to lie in or must be quick. A gentleman would embrace his wife on a couch, or a bed. A bed would be best.''
A bed,'' she said, ''like this?''
''Perhaps like this.—Though the feathers, I think, would be devils to shake back into shape, when you''ve finished!''
I laughed; but the laugh came out too loud. Maud flinched. Then she seemed to frown.
''Finished . . .'' she murmured, as if puzzling over the word. Then, ''Finished what?'' she said. ''The embrace?''
''Finished it,'' I said.
''But do you mean, the embrace?''
''Finished it.'' I turned, then turned again. ''How dark it is! Where is the light?—Finished it. Can I be plainer?''
''I think you could be, Sue. You talk instead of beds, of feathers. What are they to me? You talk of it. What''s it?''
''It is what follows,'' I said, ''from kissing, from embracing on a bed. It is the actual thing. The kissing only starts you off. Then it comes over you, like—like wanting to dance, to a time, to music. Have you never—?''
''Never what?''
''Never mind,'' I said. I still moved, restlessly. ''You must not mind. It will be easy. Like dancing is.''◎本◎作◎品◎由◎思◎兔◎在◎線◎閱◎讀◎網◎友◎整◎理◎上◎傳◎